X Men Memes - Blog Posts

Hi nightcrawler fans.

Did you know this freak

Is also this freak

Thank you Alan Cumming

Do with this as you will. Go crazy artist.

Prompt: "Do you plan on kissing me, or just staring at my lips like they're your dinner?"

Summary: just the gay mutant road trip. This is mostly a Drabble.

Charles lay sprawled out on the couch, headache buzzing at the back of his mind. Recruitment today was...well, a 'shit show' in no uncertain terms. Charles had been in the city for most of the day, which (for a telepath), meant a killer headache. Once the pain had finally subsided enough to form coherent thought, he'd realized what little food he actually had today, finally noticing the festering hunger by the pit of his stomach. Erik had just entered from the bathroom.

"Erik," Charles beckoned from the couch.

"Yes?" Erik turned to see Charles splayed out on the couch. He wore only a robe—motel issued, of course—and white briefs. Erik put massive amounts of effort into not looking at Charle's dick, which you could vaguely see the outline of.

"I'm hungry."

"And?" Erik raised a brow, now standing in front of Charles.

"Food. I want it." Erik smirked a little at the way Charles was acting. 'Cute' was the word bouncing around in his mind; he would never admit it though. Erik could see the desperation in Charles' eyes, almost a pout. He promptly decided that it was a matter of national importance to annoy the ever-loving shit out of Charles.

"What's the magic word?" Charles shifted to lying on the couch now, head propped up by one hand.

"Erik you're amazing, wonderful, handsome, and I love you?" Charles looked up to see a visibly nervous, startled, bumbling, blushing, Erik.

Okay, maybe it's a matter of local importance?

In reaction, Charles' mouth slightly opened, eyes wide, eyebrows raised for only a fraction of a second. Because, fuck, that's hot, but also, he can't know that.

Still flushed, Erik coughed and said "that will suffice." Erik then grabbed the hotel phone, calling down room service—while also, actively paying no mind to Charles. About a minute later, Charles piped up.

"I can flirt too, you know." Erik raised a brow and snapped to Charles' eyes.

"Yes, I've seen it in action. I often watch it with abject horror."

"You weren't staring at my ass in abject horror," Charles mumbled, breaking eye contact with Erik (who is, once again, a mess).

"No, I was staring at your ass with uncertain lust. Your ass isn't you flirting though, Charles. Your flirting is 'oh, hello attractive person, may I unzip your genes?" This time, Charles went red in the face, and let out a scoff.

"Erik, I purposefully shake my ass in front of you. I bite on the tip of my pen, I walk around half naked more often then normal, I leave the door open when I shower."

"I... I thought that was just you."

"It is, it's me when I'm around you"

Suddenly, a knock on the door breaks the trance both men were looped into. Erik shuffles around to open the door and mumbles a "thanks" to the worker. Charles loses himself in thought and Erik sifts through the food. He brings Charles his lava cake on the couch, where he sits down next to him with his coffee. Erik has to push around Charles' legs to make room. Once settled, Charles just places his legs on top of Erik's—both men sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, facing towards each other. Charles finally begins to dig into his lava cake, making aggressive eye contact with Erik. After a while, he shifts his fork around on the empty plate, still staring at Erik. Charles’ eyes landed on Erik’s lips; a shot of anticipation went up his spine. He’d thought about this many times before, and his thoughts began to spiral, replaying old fantasies. I don’t know where I want his lips first. Maybe we’d make out a bit first, then he’d kiss down my neck. Maybe he’d find that spot right behind my ear. Maybe I’d get to see his lips wrapped around my-

"Charles, are you still hungry?" Both men now sat 'pretzel style' still facing each other, when they got there remains a mystery. Charles now met Erik’s eyes, blood rushing up to his cheeks.

"No, I'm plenty full, why?" Charles leaned in slightly

"Okay, then do you plan on kissing me or just staring at my lips like they're your desert?"

Charles' eyes go dark with lust; his body stills. He nearly throws the plate down, muttering something along the lines of "bastard," and surges forward to meet Erik. Erik's hands frame the sides of Charles' face; Charles' hands grasp the older man's hair. Their noses were touching, breath burning each other's skin, mere inches away from kissing. Charles' eyes frantically searched Erik's, as if attempting to commit the moment to memory.

"Do you always play with your food, Charles?" Erik asked, and Charles could feel the question against his mouth. Charles let out a soft "fuck you" before finally closing the distance. As their lips met, they began to slowly devour one another. Their kiss was surprisingly... non-aggressive; sweet, even. Still full of passion, lust, and desire, but it was clear that neither of them were in a rush. Both men savored their (now) lover's taste. Erik let out a breathy laugh, and Charles did the same. Words left unsaid, declarations of love, and pure adoration were confessed against each other's lips.

Charles tugged against Erik's hair, and Erik groaned. Erik, in retaliation, shifted his hands down to Charles' ass, making him yelp. He lifted Charles closer, placing him atop his own lap. The couple broke apart for air, now panting in to each other's mouths. Erik's hands found Charles' face again, thumbs stroking softly.

“You taste like chocolate," Erik rasped, because honestly, he has no clue what to say. Charles placed a chaste kiss on the corner of Erik's mouth. He responded, in a similar tone, with "you taste like bastard."

Erik laughed, and oh god, that's one of Charles' favorite sounds.

"And, pray tell, what does bastard taste like, Charles?" Oh fuck, he's never said my name like that before.

"It tastes like the idiot who agreed to travel with me." Both men leaned back slightly, now looking into one another's eyes. "Tell me more about this idiot," Erik purred, one hand now roaming across Charles' neck. Charles released Erik's hair, and instead, wrapped his hands around Erik's arms.

"Well, he's stubborn," Charles began, Erik contenting with a mhm. Charles contemplated his next words, before trying again.

"He's stubborn, handsome… probably my best friend, and has these piercing, stormy eyes. He speaks five languages, and I swoon every time he speaks his native tongue. To be fair, I swoon every time he speaks period. His laugh is one of my favorite sounds in the world, and he's the only person I enjoy arguing with. He's a beautiful masterpiece of passion, even though he can't see it. Sometimes it scares me—how honest I am with him. He's very vocal about mutant rights, he's a wonderful addition to my life, and I think I might be a little bit in love with him." Erik's thumb stopped moving, and his body stilled.

"I think that idiot is a little bit in love with you too."

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